Can't Pretend
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Mike Weston walks a very fine and very uncomfortable line. Post-1x15/Season 2.


**Title**: _Can't Pretend _(1/1)

**Universe**: _The Following _present, post-1x15/season 2

**Characters**: Mike Weston, Ryan Hardy, and Claire Matthews

**Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: Mike Weston walks a very fine and very uncomfortable line.

**Author's Note: **This is just something very short and quick, from Mike's POV. Please enjoy!

**. . .**

Mike wanted to tell him the truth.

The moment he had found out, the moment he had seen her alive and breathing, he wanted to run and tell Ryan. But Marshal Scott Turner had seen that in his eyes, and he'd grabbed his arm and ordered, _Don't say a word to Hardy about this._

Mike didn't bother asking why. He knew why. Witness protection didn't exactly work if the people who wanted you dead knew you were alive. And the second Ryan knew, Mike was certain everyone else in the world would know, too.

So he just nodded to Scott, and then looked at her, and told her quite honestly, "It's good to see you, Claire."

**. . .**

When they stood at the funeral, and everyone said nice words about her and cried, and Ryan just stood there are stared—and didn't say a single word to anyone—Mike wanted to tell him the truth.

Mike knew Ryan was going to go home and drink himself into oblivion and he wanted to put a hand out to stop him and say, _You really don't have to do that, you know. This is all a hoax, see? Can't you _see_?_

But he couldn't.

Because he'd lose his job and his credentials and he'd probably be arrested.

Because telling Ryan would blow her entire cover, and probably get both her and her son killed in just a matter of hours.

And because he couldn't tell him the truth, he just sat and watched Ryan drink and wondered what Claire would say if she were here, because maybe Ryan would listen to her. But he knew in his heart that she wouldn't even have to say anything to stop him or make him feel better. Just her being here would be enough.

But she wasn't here, Mike was, and he had nothing to say. So he just watched as Ryan drank, and drank, and drank, and he never said a word. What was there to say, after all?

**. . .**

Mike wanted to tell him the truth.

When he had to pick Ryan up from bars at four AM, because he wouldn't leave after last call.

When he stopped by Ryan's apartment and found him still hangover, even at two in the afternoon.

When he caught Ryan eyeing the knives in his kitchen a moment too long, a few times too many.

Mike wanted so badly to tell him the truth.

**. . .**

But telling Ryan the truth wasn't an option, Scott Turner told him again and again.

_You can't tell him, I can't tell him, she can't tell him—_no one _can tell him_.

Mike nodded because he understood. Intellectually, he understood. It was safest for all of them if no one else knew she was alive, especially Ryan. But it didn't make it any easier to face the man and look him in the eye every day, knowing just a couple words could lift him out of his depression.

**. . .**

Every couple months, as Mike readied himself to fly out to visit her, he had to bite down on tongue when he was around Ryan so he wouldn't let slip where he was going. So he wouldn't ask, _Hey, want to come along?_ He always used the same excuse—he was visiting his family—and Ryan never questioned it. Mike doubted he even cared, or noticed. He knew the second he left, Ryan would turn back to whatever he'd been drinking, finish the bottle, and start another one.

The words _She's alive _stuck in his throat every time he so much as said "Hello" to Ryan. They filled his mouth and twisted across his tongue and sank in his gut. He wanted so badly to say them, but he knew doing so would make all the effort that had been taken to shield her from harm meaningless.

_It won't look real unless he's in pieces, _Scott Turner told him whenever he came to the agent with his worries. And while Mike had to agree, he also thought that surely they didn't have to do it this way. They didn't have to break Ryan into so many bits. They didn't have to shatter him so completely.

_But it has to look real._

**. . .**

Whenever she asked how Ryan's holding up, which she did every time he visited, Mike only ever said, "He's fine." They both knew he was lying, but she never pushed him to be honest.

He watched as she turned away and stared out the window afterwards, and he thought maybe she didn't even really want to know the truth. He couldn't blame her. She knew better than most just how painless ignorance could be. He didn't blame her for trying to find refuge in it. She had few other comforts.

**. . .**

Mike was going to tell him the truth. He didn't care anymore what the Bureau would do, or what the Marshals Service was going to do. It was easy enough for them to say _Don't tell him. _They didn't have to deal with him every day.

Mike _was _going to tell him the truth.

But then before he could find the words, or the right moment, Ryan started functioning like a real human being again, and Mike knew he couldn't say a word.

Mike watched as Ryan started attending his doctor's appointments and going for runs and finally—_finally_—sustaining himself on something besides alcohol.

Mike watched, however, with bated breath, because he was certain—any moment now—that Ryan was going to fall apart again. He had to.

But somehow he didn't.

He ate more, and he drank less, and he exercised. He started talking, even smiling.

And as Mike watched, Ryan came back into himself—or maybe into a new self; Mike wasn't sure he even recognized this new person Ryan had become. Ryan interacted with people now; he said hello to those he recognized on the street, he made polite small talk with grocery store clerks and new acquaintances. He even flirted with women.

And Mike stood back and watched it all in awe and he thought to himself, _Maybe I'll tell him tomorrow._

**. . .**

When he went back to her later and she asked how Ryan was, Mike told her honestly, "He's actually doing really well." Because he was. Somehow. Even without her.

She nodded along to that, and talked about how good it was to hear, but when she smiled, Mike noticed, it didn't reach her eyes.

And suddenly he wanted to tell her the truth, too.

**. . .**

**Author's Note:** Reviews would be lovely. Thank you for reading!


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